open wound
by we are eternal
Summary: "Kids are like dogs, you knock them around enough they'll think they did something to deserve it."
1. Chapter 1

It was rooted and overgrown like a garden that had once meant something to someone, but it had become too much, a burden, and the flowers writhed. Weeds sprouted up and consumed, climbing up the fence and walls. They didn't have starting or stopping points. They had always been there, waiting.

Isaac stood in the doorway. He was soaking wet. Scott could see his abdominal muscles tense, his gooseflesh, and his eyes. They were full of quiet rage. He was trying on the mask of anger, but it was an ill fit. He was confused and scared and hurt and he couldn't stop being those things no matter how hard he tried. He was supposed to be stronger now. Bruises faded and cuts closed without a trace, but he had gotten enough glass stuck in him to know that wounds kept bleeding long after they had healed.

"Can I," He didn't want to ask for help. He was tired of asking for help, but he didn't have a choice. His fingernails dug into the palms of his hands. "Stay here?"

He was shivering, but he wasn't cold. The ghost of the boy he used to be still lived inside of him. "Only for the night…I don't have anywhere else to go."

"Derek?"

He smelled blood and the rain on him. He heard his heart pounding and his breath hitch.

"Stay as long as you need."

Isaac stripped of his shirt and undid the button on his jeans.

"What are you doing?"

"Changing...I was going to shower, if you don't mind."

(No) softly

"It's not like you haven't seen me naked before."

He hadn't seen him like this. Vulnerable and intimate, he had cruelty in his openness. He hadn't looked at him like this. There was a hunger in his eyes. They burned with a dark intensity that made him lower his gaze. He hadn't looked at anyone like _this._ Not even Allison.

Isaac smiled. He wondered if this is what he smelled like following Derek around like a lost puppy. Sick with need and putrefying with sweetness. Scott listened to his footsteps receding away and the silence that followed.

Scott could still hear him. He felt like he was listening to his thoughts, but he couldn't turn it off. The shower head turned on with a rusty squeak, water rushed out, the unzip of jeans, the rustle of getting out of them, the door closing. The scorching hot water ran over his shoulders and back. It used to burn him. He used to hide in there. Disappear in the streams of water. Every drop washed him clean, but he couldn't get clean anymore.

The lights had been turned off, but that didn't mean anything anymore. It was quiet, but he knew Scott wasn't sleeping. Not even the dead dreamt that softly. Isaac rubbed at his wet hair with a towel. He draped it over the back of a chair and took the pillow and blanket that had been lain out for him and made his bed on the floor. There was moonlight flickering in and dancing across the floor. It comforted him as much as it frightened him.

"There's a couch, you know." Scott said shifting under the covers.

"I'm fine. I like it here." But really who liked the floor. He didn't want to be alone. He had slept in colder places than this, on harder surfaces away from any light or warmth. "Goodnight. And thank you."

"Don't mention it."

He never got that physically close to people. Close enough to listen to their heartbeat. It was the sound he fell asleep to.

"_Don't play dumb." Derek backed him against the wall. The house sighed. There were webs in the corners and rot in the wood. He had venom in his voice. "You're a lot of things, but not that."_

_Isaac inhaled deeply. His eyes were transfixed on his carotid artery. It was thrashing. And exhale. He leaned in closer, breathing him in. His gaze flickered up to his lips and his hands pulled up his shirt. His fingers lingered on his hipbone. He met his eyes. They had a familiarity to them. The pale greens had a kindness to their savagery. _

"_Tell me what you want."_

_He was burning up like parchment. The farthest, darkest crooks of his soul were on fire. _

"_Kiss me." _

_Derek grinned. He wrapped a hand around his neck and pressed hard on his windpipe. His nails scraped his skin and he pushed himself against Isaac so no space remained between them. He was marking him. Derek loosened his grip and brushed his lips against the boy's. He opened his mouth with his tongue. _

_There was a growing ache. A heat and pulse that made Isaac deepen the kiss, biting Derek's lip and rubbing against him. Derek chuckled._

_Isaac ran his fingers through his thick dark hair and pushed him down onto his knees. _

The sky was pale yellow. A storm was in bloom. He loved the smell before it rained.

"You talk in your sleep." Scott told him over breakfast the next morning.

"What do I say?" His voice was low. Isaac had woken up screaming from nightmares, but they weren't incoherent or fading. They were memories that would never leave him. He fought with the sheets, putting holes in them, but the McCall's bedding was fine. Sweet dreams never stayed with him.

Scott swallowed heavily. "Maybe you should see someone."

Isaac raised an eyebrow. "Like who?"

"Ms. Morrell,"

"She's a little old for me, don't you think?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Why are you being like this?" He didn't say hostile, but that's what he meant. "I'm only concerned about you."

"Concerned? Is that all?" His laugh was harsh. He looked down at his bare feet. He was tired of running, but it was in his bones. "I shouldn't have come here."

'Where am I supposed to go?' It was what stopped him from leaving. He liked to think it was his fault. That he had done something wrong. It was easier that way. 'Don't leave me.' It was a plea. He had come to expect abandonment. Tolerate it. Even accept it, but not from Derek. Something was wrong.

"Isaac," Scott breathed, grabbing his wrist.

With his face half in shadow and his eyes sharp with hurt and fear he looked like a feral animal. "I will break your arm, Scott."

Scott looked at him one last time before letting go of him.


	2. Chapter 2

"I want an explanation."

Derek looked haggard like he hadn't been sleeping or eating, but he had certainly been drinking. He reeked of cheap whiskey.

"How's this for an explanation," His voice was graveled. Isaac didn't want to be here when he started breaking things. "You're a liability."

"I can take care of myself."

"Can you?"

There was a labored silence.

"That's what I thought."

The house was a part of him. A thin layer of dust had settled on the surface of his bones. Derek had watched it burn. He lost himself in the fire. His lungs were full of smoke and he was clawing at the floor, his nails bending back and cracking, but he was weak—too tired to save them, too broken to drag himself out of the past.

"I can't protect you _and_ Cora." Derek whispered. He had already lost Cora once.

"So I'm safer by myself?"

"I can't be responsible for you."

"Must be nice, being able to walk away."

"I'm not walking away, Isaac." Derek didn't want to look at him, but Isaac made him.

His eyes drew him in. They were strange and terribly beautiful. He couldn't be hurt anymore.

Someone who had felt pain—real pain—wanted to hide, to absolve it in confession, to forget it in tall glass of whiskey, but he couldn't forgive himself and he wasn't the forgetful type. He heard their screams. He felt their blood on his hands. They haunted him. Isaac was different. He was a part of the pain. He had known little else.

A smile tugged at his lips. There wasn't anything pleasant about it. It was almost as if he enjoyed the game they were playing and it was a game, albeit a cruel one. "No, you're running."

Isaac stopped. A dead halt from his run. The wind was cutting through his hair and his heart was pounding sickeningly fast.

"Hello," He called out into the nothingness. His voice didn't shatter the illusion of silence. The trees didn't answer him. The birds didn't startle and take flight. It was still light out. He looked up at the mottled blue sky. Such a calm, perfect day put him on edge. The rain was easier to understand.

He didn't feel like he was being watched. He felt like there was something under his skin. The hair on his arms was standing on end and there was a chill that ran down his spine.

Someone or thing was waiting for him. He wasn't scared. He was tired of being scared.

"Derek—" He breathed out a sigh. "Is this a test?"

Some sort of joke.

"Your sense of humor always was shit."

It was as if a bad storm was on the horizon, threatening to wash everything away, but there were no warning cries. It was a reckoning coming for him only.

And he ran.

He ran straight to Scott.

_I'm sorry. _He hated those words. They were hard to get out and he didn't understand why he had to apologize, but he knew it was the only way to make Scott look at him.

"Scott…I'm sorry."

"It's alright." Scott said quietly.

"No, Scott, I really am. You were right." If there was one thing he had learned it was that not everything had to be true. It just had to sound sincere. Scott didn't want the truth.

"Did something happen?"

"No, nothing happened." Isaac smiled. He wasn't sure if Scott was concerned or distrustful.

"Let's just go."

"What? Where?"

"Home."

Isaac didn't know what that meant anymore, but he was beginning to think it was wherever Scott was.

Isaac looked at him and Scott smiled infectiously. There was warmth in his eyes. It was a boy's smile. Isaac had never smiled like that.

"I can miss one day of school."

"Can you?"

Scott laughed. "Yeah come on."

They climbed on the back of the motorcycle. Scott had just gotten off of it. He found himself thinking Isaac had the worst timing.

His words were hollow like on the other side of a wall. His heart thrashed like a bird with a broken wing when he was with him. Close enough to run his fingers over his skin, to put his mouth on his mouth, to hold him and not let go. Isaac thought Scott said, "Sorry I don't have a helmet for you."

Helmets, school, it all seemed meaningless now. They were still convinced a part of them was normal. Isaac always wondered if his head was split open would it stitch itself back up before he bled out.

Isaac muttered, "I trust you."

They might have been careless and in the moment and foolish, but the words clawed at Scott. It didn't matter the engine hummed.

"You should probably hold on."

Isaac wrapped his arms around Scott tightly. He rested his head on his back and listened to him breathe. It reminded him of the ocean. Each inhale was a brushstroke of pale blue sea and every exhale was a crashing wave. He would follow him out to the deep, the ink spilled waters quivered over his mouth and nose, and there was no shore to wash up on.

He closed his eyes for half a second, smiling softly, and clutched the throttle. Scott pressed down hard on the accelerator. He loved the feel of wind of his skin, the intoxication of smells (coffee, pinewood, a barbeque), and then there was the warmth of Isaac holding him. He wished he could lean back into him and put his hands over his, lacing their fingers together, but there were grey skies that cried for him and open roads that beckoned him. They were splintering glass in his brain.

Pale buildings, blurred faces, the quiet greens, the dark concrete passed them by. In his gasping, shuttering heart there was only them. They slowed. They were 'home'. Four walls built a home. It was a memory, constructed by sight and smell and touch. Mom's cooking and the tree house dad had made, but they were incomplete…broken. There was no place to hide.

Isaac remembered where dishes had been thrown, voices raised, where he had never known his mother. He remembered being safe and small and lovely, swaddled in a blue blanket, but he had had no memory of her face or voice. Home was a place people left and could never return to. He didn't know how Derek stayed in that house. He couldn't live with ghosts, but that didn't mean he wasn't haunted.

He wanted something good to want him, to stay with him.

Scott took off his helmet and Isaac reached up, combing out his dark locks with his fingers. He breathed his name and arched his neck back to rest on his shoulder. His lips brushed over the freckles on his lower jaw. Isaac was a phantom in his skin, setting him on fire. He licked at his earlobe, biting it gently. The little sounds he made were like black spots on his soul.

Isaac pushed him forward. Through his half-closed eyelids he could see the sky. His blood was running hot and fast and in his delirium he swore it was painted. The pale blue was a brushstroke and the grey clouds were dots on a canvas. The glass of fabrication spider webbed. He heard traffic. He smelled garbage and factory smoke. Someone could see them. He was sure someone already had. Isaac had one hand on his hip, the other on his throat and he left reddish purple marks in his wake. His fingers tore upwards. He traced his lips. Scott opened his mouth, kissing the fingertips that danced to the curve of his body. Isaac was on war path and he would consume them both. His mouth was at the base of his neck, planting kisses down his spine through the thin fabric of his shirt.

"Isaac." Scott whispered. He wanted to shut up. He wanted Isaac to keep going and never stop.

"Please,"

Isaac knew that 'please'. He wasn't asking him to stop. It was desperate and frustrated, but it was in control.

"I've seen how you look at me." He gripped his hip. His nails dug into his skin. His fingers inched over the zipper of his jeans.

There was an ache in his throat that made it hurt to talk.

"Not here…"

"But somewhere,"

"Yes." Scott sighed.

"Come on."

Isaac followed him like a stubborn dog on a leash.

"What happened with Allison…that can never happen again,"

"I won't hurt your girlfriend."

"No, you won't hurt anyone." It sounded almost like a warning. "Isaac, listen to me. You have to learn to control this. Derek doesn't care if you hurt someone, if you get hurt. But I do."

_Derek. _Scott said the name as if it meant nothing and it did, to everyone, but Isaac. To him it was a knife sticking out of his back and it bled him dry.

They were standing close, their hands almost brushing together.

"I'm not going in there." Isaac said simply. "Do you know what my father did to me?"

Scott nodded. He had seen the scratch marks and dried blood.

"I'll be right here with you. Trust me." Isaac did and that was the problem. That was the funny thing about anchors. They could drag you down to the bottom of the sea.

Scott opened the closet door and pushed the rack of clothing aside and stepped in. Isaac was almost surprised at how neat it was, Ms. McCall's influence he was sure.

Isaac was like a caged animal. His hands were balled into fists and his head was bowed. He took two steps until he was standing face to face with Scott and pulled the door shut behind them. It was a tight fit and dark.

His heart pounded. He remembered screaming and kicking. He had been so sure his father would _forgive _him and let him out. His screams grew faint and tired, and turned to sobs. He sobbed until his voice gave out and he curled up in a ball, knees pulled into his stomach, arms folded over them. His throat was raw. His skin was bruised and cracked. Isaac gasped for breath, like he was having a panic attack, but they didn't get panic attacks. They didn't need inhalers, glasses…they didn't get hurt, not like they used to. "Scott, I can't do this."

"Yes, you can. You can."

His fingernails, turning into claws, dug into his palms and drew blood. It pooled in his hands, dripping out between the small spaces his clenched fingers left.

"Then I don't want to." Isaac snarled. He reached for the doorknob, but Scott wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close. Isaac felt his breath on his ear.

"You're right I don't know what it was like, what you went through, but I want to help you. I'm your friend. I'm more than that."

"Breathe."

He drew in shaky breath after shaky breath. It was a horrible, rasping sound. The noise an animal made when it crawled away, somewhere dark and alone to die.

Isaac was himself again, or as close to it as he had ever been. He felt far away like he was drifting out of a picture frame. He relaxed in his embrace. He wasn't fighting anymore and hadn't been for a while. He was resigned, like someone who checked themselves into a mental hospital when there was nothing wrong with them just to sleep in a bed and listen to another patient's breathing and the shuffling feet of the staff. Even if he knew what he was he couldn't say it, not to himself, and especially not to Scott. It was easier to play the victim, and he had been a long while back. His bruises had faded, but he would always have this indescribable fear of being alone. Scott didn't have his asthma anymore, but the suffocating need to fix people, when he couldn't even help himself, clung to his bones.

He was tired of being in the dark, but he couldn't step out. Not even when he was drenched in sunlight. Scott was on a crash collision course with the sun and he was pulling Isaac along with him.

Scott had a hand on the back of his head. He rested his forehead against his. "Somewhere is here, with me, now."

He kissed his forehead, his eyelids, the side of his mouth, and then his lips. It was starved, aching and breathless. Isaac returned the kiss roughly and pushed him back onto the bed. He pushed his shirt up over his head and pinned his wrists above his head. His tongue traced his collar bone. He undid the button on his jeans, unzipping them, and tugged them down. Isaac drew a line down his navel with his fingers, pulling his boxers down his hips. His lips followed, kissing every inch of sweat sheened skin. He licked at his navel, his hipbone, his thighs, his pale cheeks.

Scott had his bottom lip in between his front teeth. He inhaled through his nose slowly. His fingers were wrapped around the sheets. All he could say was, "Isaac," in a low voice and it was all Isaac wanted to hear.

His bright blue eyes looked up at him. His eyes said so much when his words filled him with so little.

His toes curled and his cheeks burned red.

His hands were on the back of his thighs, pushing them up. Scott arched his back and let out a moan. Isaac sucked on his fingers and pushed inside of him. Scott grasped the bed sheets tighter.

Isaac smiled. His eyes were flecked with gold. His tongue circled around the head of his cock and his fingers pulled out of him, only to push back in, harder, fucking him with two fingers and his mouth. Scott stared up at the ceiling fan, breathing heavily.

His lips were around his cock and Scott whispered, "I can be your home."

He would have given him anything (at that time).


	3. Chapter 3

The pale morning sun cast a shadow over their naked backs. Scott was asleep beside him. He had an arm thrown over his chest, his fingertips felt the tremor of every breath, and his face was tucked in the crook of his neck. Isaac breathed softly not wanting to wake Scott. He had been up awhile, watching him sleep. His eyes moved behind his eyelids, his lips twitched, he murmured incoherently. Isaac kissed the base of his neck and brushed the hair out of his eyes. Scott rolled onto his stomach, squeezing the pillow tighter, and jostled the blanket with his legs.

It had been different with Derek. When they did sleep, and that was rare for them, Derek would tell him to go to sleep in a stern voice. He wore a shit eating grin, despite knowing he, and no one else for that matter, could tell Isaac what to do. He would then kiss him on the forehead and pretend to be asleep until Isaac sighed and turned off the lamp that sat on a small stack of textbooks by the mattress on the floor. He rested his head on his shoulder and walked his fingers down his chest. He felt Derek smile and smiled too. Derek put his hands over his. He loved his hands, their heaviness and how tightly they squeezed. They were always cold and rough.

"Sleep, Isaac." Derek said his name like he wanted to say something else in its place, but they didn't have any other names for each other. They didn't know what to do with sweet words. The only things they were good at were fighting and fucking.

Sleep wouldn't have him. In the darkness he found him. His fingertips followed a line down his lower abdomen as if it were a map. His lips were a ghost on his skin, drawing out a long moan. He knew him better in the black of night. They were a murky river running over stones, caressing flat and jagged surfaces, flooding in monsoon season. What words their mouths didn't form, their hands on each other's bodies screamed. His teeth sank into his shoulder. He ran his tongue over the crescent-shaped indentation. The corner of his mouth twisted into a sneer and he looked up at Derek. He had an expression Isaac had never seen before. His hand reached out as if to caress his cheek, but instead he grabbed his hair and pulled his head back. He kissed him, from his lips to his collarbone. Derek wrapped an arm around his back and flipped Isaac under him effortlessly.

It seemed Derek never left his thoughts. He was on the inside of him. His fingers were wrapped around something vital, but they didn't squeeze. They touched a part of him that was buried deep and that hurt more than raised voices or shards of glass. Derek had fragmented himself behind his eyes.

Isaac never wanted the quiet of the moment to end, but knew it already had. He looked at Scott. It was the second time he had seen that look. Contentment, funny he could make them feel something he never had. He didn't want to leave the bed, but knew he had to.

Derek was howling for him. Birds took flight and squirrels leapt through the trees. The wind picked up leaves, turning them over in its gentle hands. Branches swayed across the grayish blue sky. His ears perked to every sound, waiting for familiar footsteps.

"Where are you going?" Scott asked sleepily. Isaac didn't answer. He knew Scott knew. Scott was only asking because he wanted to hear an apology. Isaac felt a tidal wave of guilt, sea water filling his mouth and stinging his eyes, but not over leaving Scott.

"I love you." Scott said. He was sitting up. His fingers were curled around the blanket, holding it up to his waist as if there was any modesty left between them or perhaps he just wanted something to hold onto. His hair was ruffled and his lips were pale and dry. He rubbed at the corners of his eyes. He was beautiful and innocent and the silence was corroding that. He looked scared. More scared than Isaac had ever seen him. Isaac wasn't sure why he said it. Was it to make him stay? Or maybe he really meant it.

They stared at each other not saying anything for what seemed like an eternity with no good books to read until, "I'll be back soon." Isaac kissed him deeply like it was the last time.

Those three words plagued him even as he ran faster than he had ever run before.

"I didn't think you'd come." Derek admitted.

"You wouldn't shut up." Isaac watched Derek fold his arms over his chest and smile like something was funny. "What do you want?"

"To talk," Derek stated simply.

"So talk," Isaac sighed.

"I made coffee." Derek retorted.

Isaac waited outside, reveling in the light breeze. Isaac remembered getting up early to watch the sun come up. Derek said he had never seen a sunset before. Isaac wasn't sure whether he thought that was more sad or pathetic. Derek would drape a blanket over his shoulders and sit beside him in comfortable silence. Derek's eyes weren't on the horizon, they were on him. A faint smile played across his face. He made Derek wait as if he was so enthralled with the setting sun he couldn't see him looking at him, but he always knew when he was watching him. Finally he would turn his head to meet his kiss.

Derek returned with two mugs of steaming hot coffee. He set them on the rail to cool. Derek looked at Isaac sadly. He knew what he was thinking about.

"I'm sorry I hurt you." Derek muttered.

_I'm sorry, too. _Isaac should have said, but instead he just nodded.

"Isaac, you need to leave. You need to get far away from here, from me."

"What?" Isaac snapped.

"It was true what I said. That I wanted to protect you and that's why I sent you away. But I can't. I can't protect you."

"What are you so afraid of?"

"Deucalion wants me to kill one of my pack. He's not going to stop until that happens. And if it's you that gets hurt," Derek paused. "Killed…"

"That's not going to happen." Isaac reassured. Derek gave him a look that said, 'You can't promise me that.' And he was right. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"I thought…the hell with what I thought. The first thing you did was run to Scott."

"Where was I supposed to go? I don't have anyone. Just Scott and _you,_" His lips were hesitant to form around the word.

"You still have me." Derek reassured. Somehow he wasn't so sure. Isaac smiled and looked at the peace that seemed to surround them. The trees were still and shards of light were shining through the haze. It was the opposite of what he felt. The fire should have spread to the forest, Isaac thought. Leaving the earth bare and tarnished where nothing would grow. The ricketiness of the porch comforted him. The wood was splintered and the paint faded. It was like an old song he knew every word to.

"That is the last place you'd be safe. You understand?" Derek said huskily.

"Yeah, I understand." Isaac swallowed thickly. "Alright I'll go. I'll get out of town, but I'm not leaving you."

"Why do you always have to be so stubborn?"

"I thought that was what you liked about me." Isaac laughed.

"It's one of the things I love about you." Derek corrected. "There's a lot."

Their hands were almost touching. His thumb brushed against his skin. It was warm from the coffee. Isaac rested his forehead on his shoulder and covered Derek's hand with his. He wrapped his arms around him tightly. Isaac didn't want to think about this being the last time he would breathe in his scent or feel his rough skin on his. Derek was still in his embrace.

"What about Scott?" Derek asked.

Isaac heard the heartbreak in his voice. Derek knew. He saw it in his eyes, heard it in his voice, and smelled it on his skin.

"What about him?" Isaac continued to act coy.

"I know you fucked him." He sounded more hurt than angry.

"So?" Isaac said with a coldness he supposed he got from his father along with a few bruises. It had settled in and made itself at home when he was curled up and shivering on the freezer floor.

"You're growing up."

"If that's how you perceive maturity than I'm not sure I want to get as old as you." Isaac grunted.

"I'm old, huh?"

"Yeah,"

A heavy silence grew between them and the smiles faded from their lips. Isaac knew what Derek was going to say before he said it.

"You're okay leaving him?"

"Don't really have a choice, do I?"

"No."

"So how about a drink?" Isaac smirked at the scowl that darkened Derek's face. "What I'm old enough to fuck, but not to share a drink with?"

"Alright," Derek sighed. He came back with a half empty bottle of whiskey. He kept looking at Isaac as if to ask if this was what he really wanted. He poured a splash of whiskey clumsily into the empty coffee mug.

Isaac downed it in one gulp, coughing and sputtering drops of whiskey onto his lips and chin.

"Easy does it." Derek laughed. He patted him on the back. Isaac smiled too, relaxing into his touch.

He kissed the whiskey from his lips.

His backpack was heavy. The straps were digging into his shoulders. He was trying to say goodbye, but knew he already had in his own way. Scott wouldn't look at him. They stood side by side. It was like they were strangers in a crowded elevator and all they shared was chanced, physical closeness. Scott couldn't get his scent off of his skin. He couldn't forget the feeling of his lips on his or how he tasted. He felt his fingertips on his sweatshirt sleeve. It was a passing touch. His long, slender fingers slid down his wrist to trace the curve of his clenched fist. He whispered in his ear and kissed the side of his mouth.

Scott watched him walk away. He looked at the back of his head and the palms of his hands. He wanted to run to him and lock their fingers together and kiss the skin between where his hair stopped and his cardigan began, but he let him go.

Tiredness defined Isaac as much as his reflection in the mirror. Exhaustion burned his bones to ash with every step he took away from Scott. His eyes were heavy and itched, but he couldn't sleep. Not yet.

The school bell rang. Students flooded out the door and into the cool fresh air and flickers of sunlight. They were in such a hurry as if they had somewhere to be, something to do. In reality they had nothing that couldn't wait.

Allison and Stiles headed straight for Scott. Isaac looked over his shoulder at them. He was a trespasser in his life. He watched him smile, soft laughter falling from his lips. With them he was happy. Scott looked at Isaac for the briefest of moments. His face was so different from the one before. His eyes were hazy and his smile was gone, replaced by an emptiness that made him look much older. Scott blinked and Isaac was gone.

The night sky was shrouded by fat clouds. There was not a star in sight. It was calming in a way. Even inside he was cold. Isaac was glad he had brought a jacket with him. He was the last customer in the diner. The waitress was jonesing for a cigarette. Her smile was anxious and her palms were sweaty. She stank of cheap perfume and addiction.

Isaac heard the door opened and the clack of a cane. He knew that smell: sweat and the sweet, metallic intoxication of blood with a brooding undercurrent of amber, musk, and oak. It was veiled, poorly, by rich cologne.

The tall man sat down opposite him. A shadow ghosted over his ashy skin, bristly stubble, and thin lips. Isaac held his breath. His hands were wrapped the mug, but not for warmth. It had gone cold a while ago. He could crack his jaw with it if he was fast enough. He wasn't.

"I've been watching you." Deucalion said.

"Is that supposed to be funny?" Isaac asked.

He smiled and took off his sunglasses as if to command, 'Look at me.' Isaac looked into his eyes. He had felt those eyes on him in the woods. They had lightness to them like the last flicker of a candle. His eyes haunted him even when he closed his own he still saw them, orange and red flames blackening the sky.

"You're very interesting, Isaac. Somehow," His voice had a hint of cold amusement to it, "You've become indispensable to not one, but two Alphas. Are you just that good?"

"Who the hell are you?" Isaac asked, though he had _some _idea.

"My name is Deucalion." His voice boomed with confidence. "Why are you running, Isaac? Don't you know it's pointless?"

"Yeah you found me, a couple miles from Beacon Hills." Isaac put his hands together in a silent clap. "Tell me did you get lost on your way here?"

His smile didn't diminish. It was well practiced. "I have a message for Derek."

"I'm not your fucking messenger boy."

There was stillness between them. They weren't alone and never had been. The twins held the waitress by force. Her makeup was streaked. Her mouth kept opening and closing like a fish gasping for air. She was scared, but quiet. She thought, stupidly, that if she was good they would let her go, but this wasn't about her. Isaac smelled the nicotine in her bloodstream. At least she got a last smoke he thought pettily. He saw the hesitancy in Ethan's eyes. The fear in his heartbeat was louder. Ethan snapped her neck. Aiden looked over Ethan with calmness and trust that had been absent from his gaze before. Isaac watched the life go out of her eyes. He had never seen anything like it before. He felt his dinner coming up, but fought to hold it down. He didn't want to do anything that could be perceived as weakness. He didn't know he was crying until he tried to breathe. His nose was stuffy and his throat ached. Maybe he was weak.

"Tell Derek that he will join me."

Isaac heard the satisfaction in his voice. His self-assurance was nauseating.

Deucalion grabbed his face. His fingernails dug into his skin. Isaac felt blood roll down his cheeks. In thick drops it fell onto the table. _Splat, splat. _

"Is that clear?" Deucalion whispered. His breath was hot against his ear. His fingers curled in his hair. He slammed his face into the table. Blood trickled down his lips. Isaac tasted the blood on his teeth. Deucalion pulled his head up only to slam it on the table again.

_Crystal. _

"Isaac?" Derek could barely see him in the impenetrable blackness, but he smelled him and felt his fingers on his collarbone. The mattress sagged as he crawled into it. Isaac straddled his hips.

"You look surprised to see me." Isaac murmured. A smile danced across his lips. It was gone in a second like its only purpose was to confuse his heart.

"That's because I am." Derek admitted.

Derek searched his eyes for answers, but there were none. Something had changed in him. His bright blue eyes were closer to a murky gray. They were hollow. His guilt had subsided, when he became too tired to cry and his feet ached, and turned to acceptance. It made him want to be close to Derek the only way he knew how. Isaac pulled off his shirt. Derek ran his hands down his bare chest. It seemed like forever since he had touched him.

"I don't want to," Derek said softly.

"Fuck?" Isaac finished for him. "Since when? This is what we do."

"We can be more."

Isaac listened to his heart pound, a bead of sweat dripped down the small of his back, the mattress squeaked under their weight and the scratchy sheets—he kept telling him to switch detergents—rustled in his sweaty, clenched hands.

"Isaac, I…"

Isaac covered his mouth with his and whispered, "Don't."

He couldn't hear those words again.

"Stay?" Derek knew all he had to do was ask. Isaac hadn't realized how much Derek needed him and how scared he was until now. "Just for tonight and then go, far away. Don't come back."

"I won't." Isaac lied.

He knew he was the message. There was no leaving.


End file.
